


you've got grey eyes and i've got sunrise

by ladykestrel



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: Gen, no spoilers for The Winner's crime, set somewhere after the events of The Winner's Curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykestrel/pseuds/ladykestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kestrel and Arin did not move, they remained as still as statues caught in an embrace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got grey eyes and i've got sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to one of those "five times that... and the one time not" things. I started writing the 'one time not' part first but it got away from me and I decided to leave it as it is.

On a sunny spring day, Kestrel sat on her piano bench and willed her fingers to move, to play, _to do something_.

They refused her.

She had had in mind to practice the symphony the emperor had given her, saying how much she would just _adore_ the sounds coming out of the piano. But the music sheet stared back at her, and Kestrel watched it with irritation. Like raindrops on a window, the notes did not sink in, only trailed down the slope of her.

Kestrel let out a loud sigh of frustration. Her fingertips cashed onto the piano keys, letting out a startling sound – the only one to grace the music room that day.

She wasn’t sure why the emperor thought she’d enjoy the melody. It was monotone and the notes were flat. It was running onto a well-paved gravel road, with no obstacles to overcome – not even a single pebble. The piece reminded Kestrel of a winter night’s chill. Still, glacial, biting.

Kestrel stood from the bench and headed for the door. Since she couldn’t play, there was no use of lingering in the room any longer than she already had. Despite the cool air of the palace’s stone walls, Kestrel felt stifled. Invisible hands had grasped her throat and were slowly stealing away her breaths, one after another.

She needed to get out.

Back in her chambers, maids were buzzing room through room like a swarm of bees. Kestrel could practically hear their hum. One of the servants was bent over a large trunk, folding large pieces of clothing into it. There were layers upon layers of cloth spilling out of the box. Dresses in all shapes and colours, made for every occasion. But not one would fit the occasion Kestrel had in mind.

Finally noticing their mistress standing at the doorstep, the maids halted in surprise, their former tasks forgotten. In a blink, Kestrel was surrounded by women wanting to attend to her every need. _Perhaps the mistress would like a bath, or a change of clothes. Should they send for a dessert tray while she rested?_

Kestrel dismissed them all. Then asked for the plainest piece of clothing they could find. When the maids offered to help her dress, Kestrel refused them with a flick of the hand. Grabbing an ordinary dress that would have had the entire court gasping if they ever saw the Lady Kestrel in it, she went about to changing out of her very large, very elaborate one. Peeling the blue material away was like taking a breath after being under water for so long. Kestrel let relief wash over her in waves.

The maids had taken up whatever work they had left behind and were too busy to pay attention to their changing mistress. As Kestrel smoothed down the dress into a perfect fit, her head formed a plan. The Valorians did not have gods, but Kestrel sent out a silent prayer for good luck.

When inquired after her intentions, Kestrel merely said she was going for a stroll in the palace gardens. When asked why she was taking the servant pathways, she said it was for a change of scenery. (The general’s daughter had once freed a slave and fought for another. The whole of Valoria was aware of Lady Kestrel’s eccentrics.)

Winding through dark hallways with only torch lights for guide, eagerness arose in Kestrel. It was the same rush of anticipation as the quiet before the storm, those moments of stillness and suspension right before thunder broke through the clouds. A shimmering light broke through, filling the hallway in sunlight. She’d made it.

Carefully not to detect the attention of the working men hauling sacks onto the wagons, Kestrel moved with her back flat against the stone walls. She was entirely too recognizable with her bright golden hair and even brighter mark. Kestrel rubbed at her brows with the dress’ sleeve, hoping she’d gotten rid of at least a portion of the glitter. Masking her head would prove more difficult of a challenge, since her hands couldn’t scrub away the color of her hair. Kestrel’s eyes searched for something useful all the while cursing her bright locks. _An open flame_ , Arin had called them.

A ripped sack lay disregarded on the ground a few steps away. Kestrel quickly seized it, cautious of the eyes that may settle upon her. Nobody was paying her any attention, too busy with their own work. The material was rough and thick, but it could resemble a shawl with a little force applied. Kestrel wrapped it around her head, making sure every blonde lock was hidden. There were no means of seeing how she’d done, but Kestrel hoped what little effort she’d put in would pay off and the men would think her nothing more but a servant girl taking a break and going into the city. The palace maids were known to go off on occasions to see family or lovers there, so it was not so unusual for women to be seen leaving through the servant gates.

Once past the palace grounds without detection – with only a few whistles and shouts from the male laborers to spare – Kestrel could finally breathe. Those imaginary arms that had been squeezing her throat before were gone now, replaced with the sweet sensation of being able to breathe again. Kestrel smiled to herself as she walked down the path, away from the smothering court and into the loud streets of freedom down below.

A river flowed alongside the trail to the city. It was a little ways from the downtrodden road which was exhausted from years of horse hooves trampling it. Kestrel decided it was better to go along the river bank instead of the open pathway, in case a wagon should drive by. She might now look like the future empress with the ripped sack wrapped around her head, but there was no way Kestrel would be able to avoid recognition when coming face to face with someone from the palace. She slid down to the river and followed it’s churning sounds all the way to the city.

Once in the crowded streets of the market, Kestrel swore she could start dancing and squealing out of joy. The binds of the palace were no longer holding her back and she was free to move about wherever she wanted. Realization hit her as sudden as black powder exploding.

She was free.

Perhaps temporarily, but freedom was right in Kestrel’s reach and nobody was stopping her from claiming it. She felt giddy, like a child.

Kestrel imagined Arin going through the same street but in a different city, feeling the way she was. I wanted to feel free, he had told her. Kestrel understood now what he’d meant. It was why he had accepted the treaty she’d secured and handed to him personally. A limited freedom. Arin hadn’t been a fool - he’d seen the chance to taste it, and he’d taken it. So had Kestrel.

Kestrel walked the length of the whole city, stopping only when she had reached the outskirts. There she’d settled on a small tavern to rest her legs. It was still daylight out, but Kestrel could see it was close to setting. Soon, the palace would start wondering where she had gone. Soon, the emperor would demand that she was found and brought back. Yet, as Kestrel walked into the tavern, she swore the sun went back up into the sky.

Across the bar stood some ill-fitting clothes and a mop of unkempt hair, downing a glass dry. Kestrel knew the expression that would be on the other side - the one she couldn’t see. She knew every line and every crinkle, each and every way they could bend and pull. She pictured brows furrowing, mouth going into a straight, focused line. She imagined lips closing around glass, eyelids shutting over pale grey irises. Kestrel wanted to see them not only in her imagination. She had longed for it all these months.

Kestrel walked up to the bar. Tapped a shoulder. Waited for whatever storm that was about to come. Her heart welcomed it with arms wide open.

When he turned around, Kestrel gasped aloud. She almost thought she _had_ made a mistake. She almost apologized for it. Then she saw him reel and knew.

His jawline was covered by stubble, his clothes looked rumpled, and his eyes looked far away. Kestrel began to wonder if she really had made a mistake after all.

“Good evening, Princess,” Arin spoke. His voice was dipped in fine, bittersweet wine.

“Arin,” Kestrel breathed. She didn’t know what else to do. For a second time that day, she felt relief beyond words. As if the Herrani gods had heard her prayers and taken her in as their own.

“Court life not enough for you? Have you come to see how us, poor folk, live out here?” Now Arin was facing her fully, his body angled towards Kestrel’s standing form.

Avoiding his question, and the sting it brought, Kestrel asked her own, “What are you doing here?”

“Is that really of the concern of Valoria’s future empress?” Arin swirled his but empty glass. He shouldn't have talked so loud. Someone might have overheard them.

Kestrel sighed in resignation. She grew tired of this game in which they evaded one question with another. The joy from seeing Arin was quickly giving way to sadness, to guilt. Kestrel recalled all the times she’d imagined Arin by her side. She pictured his easy smile and teasing eyes. The way his touch would linger on her skin while Kestrel dreamed.

Kestrel had been living a lie. Looking at Arin now - the real one - she knew this was the truth. It was time she stopped deceiving herself. The barkeeper came by. She appeared to be not much older than Kestrel, with big wild hair and bright eyes that shone under the dim lighting in the tavern. She asked Kestrel if she wanted anything. Kestrel declined. She looked at Arin one last time, who was busy drinking his newly refilled glass. Quietly, Kestrel excused herself. She was out the door in an instant.

The air outside held the weight of the clouds that had crowded up in the sky. They held the promise of rain. Kestrel would be caught in the middle of it while she made her way back to the palace. People were already searching for her, what did it matter if they found her cold and wet from the rain? It was as if the weight of caring was taken away from her by the weather. She’d swapped it with the clouds overhead. Kestrel felt nothing.

A drop landed on her nose, then another on her cheek, on hey eyelashes, on her plain dress and makeshift headdress. Soon it was pouring, large droplets of rain coming down and hitting the ground with a splatter. Kestrel tried to keep to the walls of the buildings around her and to the little shelter they provided, but rain still got to her. Her shoes were making splashing sounds with each step she took.

Kestrel wished for a horse. She wished for her horse. Javelin had remained back in Herran, in Arin’s stables. She wished she had sent somebody to fetch him. She wished she had gone and gotten him herself. She wished she never left him in the first place. Instead, he was alone now. She had abandoned him.

Kestrel felt she was no longer thinking about Javelin.

Water splashed as boots ran over puddles of rain behind her. Kestrel tensed, hand ready to unsheathe the dagger at her hip. She kept walking. The slashing became louder and louder, the footsteps grew closer and closer. A figure ran up to her and blocked her path. Kestrel looked up to see Arin, face soaked, hair dark and dripping with rain water. He took her by the wrist and lead her to an alleyway between two shops.

“A lady should not be walking alone at this late hour,” Arin said.

“You’re the one who followed me and cornered me here,” Kestrel offered back.

“That’s because…” he trailed off. Clearing his throat, Arin continued, “That’s because I needed to be sure.”

Kestrel was puzzled. “Of what?”

Arin looked right into her eyes, his own pleading, but Kestrel wasn’t sure what they were asking of her. “Whether you loved him.”

“It’s getting late, Arin. Let me go.”

“Not until you answer me.”

“I don’t have to,” Kestrel defied him.

“You don’t. But I deserve an explanation. Kestrel, you came to me with my freedom in your hand, you handed it to me and told me to be happy for you. Then you left, you didn’t even stay long enough to collect your things.”

“I have new things, I am in no need of the old ones now,” Kestrel cut Arin off.

“Give me this one thing, Kestrel. Please.” Now Arin’s voice was pleading too. It cracked at his last word. He was standing dangerously close to her, their bodies nearly touching. Kestrel was standing on an edge. She was about to fall from it.

“What do you want me to tell you, Arin? That I don’t love him? That I’d rather be with you? That I would leave everything behind and run away with you, if it didn’t equal certain death?” Kestrel’s own voice grew, her face heating up. She was growing tired, frustrated. She was growing angry, at Arin, at herself, at the emperor, at the court, at the empire. Everything was too complicated, the thread pulled too tight. It was bound to tear apart. “Because those are all true, there is nothing more than I want than to stay with you.”

Arin withdrew from shock. Then he stepped even closer, drawing his face mere breaths away from Kestrel’s. He whispered, “Then why don’t you?”

“Because I can’t,” Kestrel whispered back. “I can’t because he’d kill you.”

“He’d kill me,” Arin echoed. Taking her by the shoulders, he asked, “Who would? Kestrel, look at me.” Despite him asking, Arin somehow knew exactly who Kestrel was talking about.

Kestrel thanked the skies for raining, for masking her tears. She looked up to Arin through glassed eyes. She smiled at him and fell apart in his arms. Arin clutched her close, arms tightly woven around her small frame, shielding her. From the rain, from her pain, from her people. Kestrel circled her arms around him too.

They stayed like that for a while, rain staining their backs, Kestrel’s tears staining the front of Arin’s shirt. Water splattered around them, onto them, into them. Kestrel and Arin did not move, they remained as still as statues caught in an embrace. Pulling away slightly, Arin brushed the tears away from Kestrel’s face. His palms cupped her cheeks and she rose up to kiss him. Her lips smeared the answer he’d demanded off of her onto Arin’s mouth. Arin hungrily accepted it, teeth pulling at her lower lip. Kestrel’s hands went around his neck. Arin’s went to her waist. Kestrel felt the taste of him on her mouth, mixed between salty tears and rain. She wanted to drown into it, into him. She felt like she almost would.

Thunder cracked open the sky, lightning illuminating the dark alleyway. Kestrel pulled away. Arin reluctantly let her. He still held on to her, arms still at her waist, refusing to let go completely. As if she might vanish. As if he might lose her. Kestrel knew he was close to being right. And when she went to pull away fully, she knew he knew it too. Arin’s arms fell back to his sides, resigned. A sigh escaped his lips and Kestrel wanted to kiss it off of him. She couldn’t.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Everything was said between their eyes. Amber to steel. Steel to amber. Explanations were offered, questions were answered. Promises were made. And when they parted ways, they fingertips made a vow of their own.

It took the whole night for Kestrel to get back to the palace. The rain made it difficult to follow the river path. Kestrel’s dress was up to the knees in mud, her shoes absolutely destroyed from the dirt. The sack she’d tied around her head had come undone long ago, freeing her golden locks. It was barely holding on to her hair.

The sun was rising on the horizon when Kestrel reached the stables at the palace's back gates. She was noticed immediately, but not as quickly recognized. Only when she spoke that the guards relaxed. They escorted her back to her chambers and handed Kestrel over to her maids. The women loudly exclaimed how happy they were to see her then alerted Kestrel of the fact that she had frightened them out of their wits. Kestrel only smiled and let them peel off the soaking gown off her chilled body. She hadn’t noticed she’d been shivering until her maids made her get in the steaming bath they’d readied. Kestrel hadn’t felt the cold of the stormy night until her skin was scalded with hot water. Her maids inquired after where she’d gone, but Kestrel waved them off. She sent them away and dozed off in the bathtub.

That Valoria’s ruler was not pleased with the General’s daughter was putting it mildly. The emperor was having lunch when Kestrel entered the dining room. He was sitting at the head of the long rectangular table with the prince sitting in the chair at his left. Kestrel greeted them both. The emperor beckoned her to sit at his right side with a swipe of a hand. He did not speak. Kestrel gathered her gown and sat. She looked in Verex’s direction and met his gaze. His eyes held a warning. Any trace of last night’s euphoria gone, Kestrel’s nerves now sang with alarm.

“Where did you wander off yesterday, my dear future daughter?” The emperor’s tone was unnervingly calm and even.

“I went for a walk in the gardens. I had gone too far away when it started pouring so I hid in the stables. I must have fallen asleep,” Kestrel explained. She hoped she sounded convicting enough.

The emperor hummed and returned his attention to the plate before him. Kestrel did not meet his eyes, or Verex’s, for the remainder of the meal.

Later, when the three of them had finished their lunches and were heading out, the emperor turned to Kestrel. In his eyes, she saw fire cackling. “I hope your walk had been pleasant despite the interruption of rain,” the emperor said. Kestrel knew he had not believed her. He knew she knew it. Looking at him now was further proof of that. Kestrel thanked her future father-in-law and hurried past the large doors of the dining room.


End file.
